
Class 






Book 



Oopiglit^ . 



CQEXRIGHT DEPCS51 



MY DICKENS FRIENDS 




From an etching 



FRANK SPEAIGHT 



as 



Grandfather Smallweed 
(Bleak House) 



MY DICKENS 
FKIENDS 



BY 



FRANK SPEAIGHT 



Illustrated 
by R. A. WEED 




N*ro $0rk 

JAMES B. POND 

1916 






Copyright 1916 
By FRANK SPEAIGHT 
Published December, 1916 



DEC 18 1916 



-CI.A453iH'i 



CONTENTS 



PICKWICK PAPERS 



MR. PICKWICK 
SAM WELLER 
WINKLE 

ARABELLA ALLEN 
TONY WELLER 
MRS. BARDELL 
DODSON AND FOGG 
BUZFUZ 

ALFRED JINGLE 
MISS WARDLE 
TRACY TUPMAN 
THE FAT BOY 
MR. WARDLE 
THE COACH 
AUGUSTUS SNODGRASS 
BOB SAWYER 



DAVID COPPERFIELD 



DAVID COPPERFIELD 

DORA 

LITTLE EM'LY 

STEERFORTH 

DANIEL PEGGOTTY 

HAM 

MRS. GUMMIDGE 

BARKIS 

MICAWBER 



11 
12 
13 
14 
15 
16 
17 
18 
19 
20 
21 



24 
25 



29 
30 
31 



34 
35 
36 
37 



URIAH HEEP 38 

MISS BETSY TROTWOOD 89 

MR. DICK 40 

TRADDLES 41 

MR. MURDSTONE 42 

MISS MOUCHER 43 

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 

KATE NICKLEBY 47 

NEWMAN NOGGS 48 

CHEERYBLE BROTHERS 49 

TIM LINKINWATER 50 

MANTALINI 51 

CHRISTMAS BOOKS 

SCROOGE 55 

MARLEY'S GHOST 56 

BOB CRATCHIT 57 

TINY TIM 58 

TILLY SLOWBOY 59 

TROTTY VECK 60 

OLIVER TWIST 

OLIVER TWIST 63 

NANCY 64 

BILL SIKES 65 

FAGIN 66 

QUILP 67 

BUMBLE 68 



THE OLD CURIOSITY SHOP 



LITTLE NELL 


71 


DICK SWIVELLER 


72 


THE MARCHIONESS 


73 


MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT 




MARK TAPLEY 


77 


TOM PINCH AND MARY GRAHAM 


78 


RUTH PINCH 


79 


PECKSNIFF 


80 


SARAH GAMP 


81 


MRS. HARRIS 


82 


MONTAGUE TIG 


83 


JONAS CHUZZLEWIT 


84 


DOMBEY AND SON 




CAPTAIN CUTTLE 


88 


TOOTS 


89 


CARKER 


90 



BLEAK HOUSE 

GRANDFATHER SMALLWEED 

POOR JO. 

CHADBAND 

RICHARD CARSTON 

MR. JARNDYCE 



93 
94 
95 
96 
97 



BARNABY RUDGE 
BARNABY RUDGE 
MRS. RUDGE 



101 

102 



LORD GEORGE GORDON 103 

A TALE OF TWO CITIES 
SYDNEY CARTON 107 

OUR MUTUAL FRIEND 
BELLA 108 

HARD TIMES 
MR. GRADGRIND 109 

LITTLE DORRIT 
LITTLE DORRIT 110 

GREAT EXPECTATIONS 
MISS HAVISHAM 111 

EDWIN DROOD 
EDWIN DROOD 112 



ILLUSTRATIONS 

GRANDFATHER SMALLWEED (Bleak House) 

Frontispiece 

SAM WELLER (Pickwick Papers) 12 

MR. PICKWICK (Pickwick Papers) 25 

MR. MICAWBER (David Copperfield) 37 

SCROOGE (A Christmas Carol) 55 

URIAH HEEP (David Copperfield) 84 



PICKWICK PAPERS 



MR. PICKWICK 



Pickwick, immortal! 
Loud is the laughter 
With which men greet thee 
All over the world. 
Not England alone, 
Sphere of thy wand'rings, 
Welcomes thee ever 
With fondest salute — 
Whole nations ring forth 
Their hearty guffaw; 
And children unborn 
Will take up the strain 
Blessing the master 
That sent thee and Sam 
Rippling with laughter 
Around a sad world. 



SAM WELLER 
Pickwick Papers 

Sam, we dearly love you, 

The whole world shakes your hand; 
Sam, we gladly greet you, 

You're known in ev'ry land. 

Wherever we go, 
Wherever we be, 
Whether on land, 
Whether on sea, 
Ev'ry one loves you 
And laughs at your name; 
Your jests are remembered 
And firm is your fame. 

The world is better for your sojourn 

Here on earth below. 
Your native wit in simple words 

On all you did bestow. 
It mattered not if times were bright, 

Or if the days were dark, 
You whistled your way through, dear Sam; 

You were a merry spark. 




24W; ///£ 



SAM WELLER 
(Pickwick Papers) 



WINKLE 
Pickwick Papers 

Always in trouble, 

Always in woe. 
Making mistakes 

Wherever you go. 
Owning to nothing 

That you cannot do; 
Always found out 

Then trying anew. 
In many a scrape 

Dear Pickwick you got, 
Your follies were smiled at 

And soon were forgot. 
In love you were bold 

And cared not a jot 
For you won those dear boots 

With fur round the top. 



»3 



ARABELLA ALLEN 



Pickwick Papers 



I see you, Arabella, on that stile 

With Winkle gazing on you all the while. 

Or are there other sights for which he stops — 

Those little boots with fur round the tops? 

Ah, little boots have done great harm before, 
And pretty little gloves have done much more, 
And ruddy cheeks have many an invite given, 
But rosy lips have led lost men to heaven. 



M 



TONY WELLER 

Pickwick Papers 

"Beware of widders, my dear son, 
Take my advice and widders shun, 
I've had enough of family strife, 
With that there Stiggins and the wife." 
But Tony, your dear wife was weak 
For Stiggins 'ways, he was so sleek. 
She did it for your soul's great good, 
And when she died, you understood. 
We hear your coach go rattling by, 
Down Ludgate Hill you seem to fly. 
The coach, your horses, all's a song 
As o'er the road you dash along. 
Your heart's as big, your laugh's as free 
As Captain Cuttle's on the sea. 
You both were simple-hearted souls, 
Your shaking laugh no sneer controls. 
You bow in awe when some great mind 
As such in Pickwick you do find. 
Sam's proud of you, and so are we, 
You're friend to all, you're friend to me. 



i5 



MRS. BARDELL. 
Pickwick Papers. 

I have a kind of deep regret 

For you, Widow Bardell. 
Dodson and Fogg laid well their net 

For you, Widow Bardell. 

At first you thought that Pickwick loved, 

You did, Widow Bardell. 
You know you did, till it was proved 

He didn't, Widow Bardell. 

For when you fell into his arms, 

My dear Widow Bardell, 
You thought he'd ne'er resist your charms, 

You did, Widow Bardell. 

But still, don't cry, it all came right, 

Deceived Widow Bardell, 
For Pickwick paid to end the fight; 

Cheer up, Widow Bardell. 



16 



DODSON & FOGG 

Pickwick Papers 

"The Law's an Ass" a man once said, 

At least I know that's what I read. 

It's sometimes rogue as well as ass 

And things most strange have come to pass. 

The law in all its truth and pride 

Beneath its cloak will often hide 

Far greater rogue than's in the dock 

For crowded court to jeer and mock. 

Dodson and Fogg, you are but two 

Of all your motley, rotten crew 

That'll take a man and drain him dry 

By lies, not truth, then pass him by 

As if you'd never touched his hand. 

I'd take you two and all your band 

And empty out your golden hoard, 

And broken hearts should be restored, 

And beggars that your thefts have made 

By all the foxy plans you laid, 

Should have again their stolen wealth 

And peace and honour, home and health. 

While you I'd shy into the scales 

Where righteous judgment still prevails. 

Then law would lift her head again 

Without a blot on her fair name. 



17 



BUZFUZ 

Pickwick Papers 

Chops and tomato sauce, I you implore 

Beneath those simple words to see far more 

Than meets the eye in one first rapid glance. 

Another point I now to you advance — 

The plaintiff here, I place before your eye — 

Look on that face of innocence. I sigh 

To think that Pickwick there could ever find 

A heart to love, then crush, then throw behind. 

My client's hopes are ruined, her prospects nil; 

There is no tenant, no longer hangs the bill, 

"Apartments for a Single Gentleman." 

Men come and go, and shattered is life's plan; 

And fifteen hundred pounds is far too small 

A sum to pay for days beyond recall. 

A serpent there in spectacles you see, 

A single man, from care and fancy free, 

Who talks of warming pans and chops and sauce, 

Then breaks domestic bliss without remorse; 

A man, who throws life's ashes on the sward. 

I say, let damages be his reward. 



ALFRED JINGLE 
Pickwick Papers 

We love you, though you were a fraud, 

You were so droll; 
The world's your audience, who applaud 

Your comic soul. 

You led our Pickwick quite a dance 

With din and clatter, 
As through the pages you advance 

With flowing chatter. 

But at the end you turned out well 

Free from mishap. 
So you we bless, where'er you dwell, 

You actor chap ! 



19 



MISS WARDLE 

Pickwick Papers 

A pity I have always felt for you, 
For Tupman was a man who would prove true; 
But Jingle won, knocked "Tuppy" off his perch, 
Then took hard cash and left you in the lurch. 

Your heart was swift to take the proferred chance, 
From man to man you all too quickly dance, 
But thank your lucky stars your flight was vain, 
And that your brother brought you home again. 

Tupman soon forgot midst life and men, 
But you of him, I'm sure, though now and then, 
Of how he might have been your hubby true, 
Had not false Jingle run away with you. 



so 



TRACY TUPMAN 
Pickwick Papers 

Dear Tupman, you're affectionate, 
Dear Tupman, you're a beau, 

Dear Tupman, all appreciate 
Your heart, and love you so. 

The ladies all adore you, 

The ladies are your friends, 
The ladies fondly love you, 

Their presence always sends 
The blood in tumult rushing 

Around your tender heart. 
All through the pages, blushing, 

You play your gallant part. 



Dear Tupman, you're affectionate 
But never give offence, 

For all is so appropriate 
In a Pickwickian sense. 



THE FAT BOY 



Pickwick Papers 



Laugh and grow fat, 'tis logic sound 

That should around a world resound, 

It lifts the soul, it cheers the heart, 

Dull melancholy must depart. 

To see the good in ev'ry soul, 

Gives us both balance and control. 

Did melancholy e'er do good 

With all its ways so dark and rude? 

Joe, you're a blessing in disguise, 

Your very fat we'll not despise, 

You'll never know how the world laughs 

At you, or how it often chaffs 

At all your fat-like lazy ways 

That filled the life of Pickwick days. 

You'll never know that laughter's cheap, 

For, bless your soul, you're fast asleep. 



MR. WARDLE 

Pickwick Papers 

The rich brown soil that smells so sweety 
That clings in fondness to my feet, 
As man and nature gladly meet, 
Sets all my blood a bounding free; 
The earth is very dear to me. 

The sun, the rain, the rising mist; 
Look up, the cloud a lark has kissed. 
My soul is full, who can resist 
The pulsing beauty of the dawn, 
Above a field of waving corn. 



A farmer's life is real and free; 
A farmer's life's the life for me, 
For towns I seldom care to see. 
If farmers go, the World's unmade, 
And soon would stop with all its trade. 



-V.V 



f € 



*1 



THE COACH 

Pickwick Papers 

I hear once again the hum of your wheels, 
And the sway of the coach again one feels. 
The glint of harness, the crack of the whip, 
The clamp of the brakes as we take the dip. 

Once more on the level and off we go, 
The clatter of hoofs on the road below; 
Then the rise of the hill in front is seen! 
The sweetness of air in the morning keen. 

We now take the hill with gallop and dash, 
The hedges we pass as if in a flash. 
A farmer with plough here waves us his hand; 
We're nearing a village in sweet moorland. 

The children shout as we dash through the street, 
And the bugle rings out their welcome to meet. 
We stop for a spell, the new team's put in, 
Then we vanish in dust and clatter and din. 



24 




MR. PICKWICK 

(Pickwick Papers) 



AUGUSTUS SNODGRASS 



Pickwick Papers 

Augustus was a poet, so they said 
Though no one ever read a single lay 
That he had ever penned in joy or fear; 
Yet to his friends Augustus was a seer. 

He looked a poet, had that dreamy eye 
That gazed at you, yet seemed to pass you by; 
That cloak of his, a poet's was for sure. 
Of sonnets he must have a goodly store. 

And thus it is that many pass for wise 
That shut their mouth and cultivate a guise 
Which oft deceives a wond'ring world around 
Who in their silence see a depth profound. 



BOB SAWYER 

Pickwick Papers 

How many men like you, poor Bob, 

Have toiled in vain; 
Or did you toil, or let mirth rob 

You, to your pain? 

Often the mirth attached to youth, 

Thinks work a bore, 
Blind in the present to the truth — 

Youth comes no more. 

But cheer up, Bob, we'll not forget 

On your behalf 
You gave the world, which loves you yet, 

A hearty laugh. 



26 



DAVID COPPERFIELD 



DAVID COPPERFIELD 
David Copperfield 

Through London's streets your little form 

In dreams I plainly see; 
Then trudging on the Dover Road 

As tired, as tired can be. 
The vision of your Aunt's stern form 

Oft rises to your mind; 
You dread to go, but you fear more 

The life you left behind. 

But that stern Aunt had heart as soft 

And kind as kind can be, 
And Dick, with pleased attentive face 

Was just as fond as she. 
These are the scenes I conjure up 

Whene'er I hear your name. 
Charles Dickens' fav'rite child you were 

And the whole world's the same. 



29 



DORA 

David Copperfield 

Sweet and tender, pure and good, 
Soft and artless, 
Misunderstood. 

Fair and childlike, young and true, 
Like blossom rare 

Your days were few. 

Childwife to your husband dear, 
You'd ever be, 

Had you stayed here. 

Soul as clear as sunlight ray, 
You brightly shine, 
Then fade away. 



30 



LITTLE EM'LY 

David Copperfield 

Fond love will often lead the young astray 
When will no longer points and leads the way. 
If Christian men would like their Master live 
All fallen angels here they would forgive. 

The very absence of forgiveness here 
Will shut the door of hope through very fear. 
Many a heart now broken, torn and frayed 
Forgiveness would have healed, and love 
remade. 

You who have never felt the tempter's power 
Know not the anguish crushed in one short hour. 
So many owe their stainless life to fate, 
And never heard those awful words "Too late !" 

So, weary one, here on your Uncle's breast 
Lay your dear head and know a perfect rest. 
True Christian he, who took you to his heart 
And kissed your tears away, and healed the 
smart. 



3* 



STEERFORTH 

David Copperfield 

Endowed you were with many a manly grace, 
With mind as keen as any of your time; 
A Chatham, or a man as big as he 
You might have been, had you been trained aright. 
Your youth was blighted by a mother's hand, 
Who saw herself in you, and nursed the fault; 
Who pampered pride, till pride held firm the reins. 
To fine ambition no one showed the way, 
You strolled through life without an aim or road, 
Temptation met you on your aimless way 
And for your empty hand found work to do; 
Then at the end when death claimed you its prey 
We grieved to think of all you might have been; 
That one, with possibilities so great, 
Should on a wave be tossed, a useless thing; 
A nature spoilt by foolish mother's hand. 



3* 



DANIEL PEGGOTTY 

David Copperfield 

Forgive! Forgive! O, that the world would hear, 
And heal the wound in many an erring heart. 
But many men who claim the Christian faith 
Will see the one whose love has conquered will 
With outstretched hands implore them to forgive; 
While they, with conscious pride of stainless life, 
Unlike their Master, turn a proud, deaf ear — 
E'en though the one that pleads may be their own. 

O parents proud, look on old Peggotty 

Who tramped a world to find the child he loved, 

And comfort her on his big gracious heart. 



33 



HAM 

David Copper field 

There are some men who in their simple faith 
Like grown up children move along life's way. 
Of learning they have nought but nature's gifts, 
But in their hearts they hold a golden store. 
What they love once, they love eternally, 
The love akin to hate they never feel, 
Fierce sorrow to their soul adds greater depth 
And gives a growth that joy can never give 
Though love be false to them, they love on still. 
Like a river on its grand majestic course 
They make their way in silence to the sea — 
That mighty ocean named eternity. 



3 + 



MRS. GUMMIDGE 

David Copperfield 

Great trials will change the outlook of a life, 
A peace will make, where there was always strife; 
A death will change a boy into a man 
His father's place to take in life's new plan. 
A love will come, art's door will open wide 
And show a soul once dead the gifts inside. 

The trials of others sometimes quick will change 
Our nature's heart, and better heart exchange. 
Poor Mrs. Gummidge nursed her new-born grief 
Till it deep-rooted grew without relief; 

Then cause of sorrow borne was killed by days 
And melancholy settled with its ways — 
Those ways of dull depression and repine 
That taint a household with its dull decline 

But when the heart that saw and soothed your 

pain 
Felt that dread sorrow fall, to you again 
Came strength to sooth his torn and troubled soul, 
And weaker vessel found a strong control. 
Thus sorrow often lifts us from the earth 
And to our useless selves gives newer birth. 



35 



BARKIS 

David Copperfield 

How many men like you there are 

Who dare not woo. 
They view the prize as from afar, 
They know exactly where they are, 

But words are few. 

They think of thee and bless thy name 

With hearts a-thrilling. 
Right boldly to her side they come 
But stammer out with falt'ring tongue, 

"Barkis is willing." 

All knew well 

What those words meant. 
A thousand thus their love will tell, 
For on the world you've brought to dwell 

A sweet content. 



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MR. MICAWBER 

(David Copperfield) 



MICAWBER 

David Copperfield 

Your stately walk I often see 
Your beaming smile is dear to me, 
Your very hope to me will be 
A guide and constant friend. 

Of course you had your faults, we know, 
And who has not, I'd like to know? 
On all and sundry you'd bestow 
Your wisdom, keen and true. 

If your own maxims you had kept, 
From England's soil you'd ne'er have stepped, 
But Fortune's gate you would have leapt 
In dear old London Town. 



37 



URIAH HEEP 

David Copper field 

Environment it is that moulds our lives, 

And as we train the child, so that child thrives. 

Example must be set for the young mind, 

And whether good or bad, he's close behind 

And follows in the steps his parents make 

To whether good or evil they may take. 

The 'umble son had 'umble parents, too, 

That cast a likeness of themselves anew. 

And Dickens when he drew thee, knew the plan 

That makes the good or evil in the man. 



38 



MISS BETSY TROTWOOD 

David Copperfield 

How many women hide a heart as sound 
And true and pure as yours, Betsy Trotwood^ 
Who show a prying world the sterner side, 
While deep below there beats the memory 
Of happy days, that cannot come again. 
Not always those who use endearing terms 
Will freely give their time, their cash, their all 
To help a friend when words no longer serve. 
The face is oft a mask to hide a heart 
As tender, soft and true as thine, good soul. 
The voice will oft deceive by its sharp tone; 
By actions only can we judge a friend. 



39 



MR. DICK 

David Copperfield 

How many men with brilliant wit 
To hold your hand are far from fit, 
Because with you your simple soul 
Is clean and good and in control. 

Much better have a feeble mind 
With all that's true and good and kind 
Than have a brain as strong as steel 
Without a virtue to reveal. 

The things you thought, the things you said 
Were harmless as King Charles's head; 
And all your troubles soon took flight 
When gazing upward at your kite. 

Dear harmless Dick, may we all be 
As peaceful at life's end as thee. 
God bless that soul who took good care 
To guard you from a lone despair. 



40 



TRADDLES 
David Copperfield 

Where'er I see the human form 

In bones arrayed, 
I think of Creakle School and you 

With slate displayed. 

The skeleton was ably drawn 

To sooth your pain 
That from your trousers tight was torn 

By Creakle's cane. 



As friend you were as true as steel— 

You bore no grudge; 
Destined an honoured place to fill, 

A noble judge. 

We think of you with that stiff curl 

And simple heart. 
With you, and with your dearest girl 

We're loth to part. 



MR. MURDSTONE 
David Copperfield 

The wisest man is sometimes wrong, 

While fools oft coax a will too strong; 

For right we cannot always be, 

And other views the World may see. 

The heart can guide as well as mind; 

Accomplish more by being kind. 
W T hat will may fail in years to do, 

One word of kindness will renew. 

It's the same story o'er and o'er — 

That men have often heard before — 

That even virtues made too strong, 

May some day change and be a wrong. 

Let's take our wills and rule them right. 
Strong only when for good we fight, 

Weak let them be to do a wrong; 
To do the right, let them be strong. 



4* 



MISS MOUCHER 
David Copperfield 

How volatile 

You always were 
To madam prim 

Or surly sir. 
You did your best 

In your short life 
To hide your pain 

In duty's strife. 
Your brave kind heart 

One seldom saw, 
Yet soon 'twas found 

True to the core. 
Some souls will have 

All earth can give 
Yet grumbling on 

They seem to live ; 
While you will hide 

In joke and laugh 
The care and sorrow 

With all vour chaff. 



4* 5 



NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 



KATE NICKLEBY 

Nicholas Nickleby 

Kate Nickleby, your lovely face 

Is the index of a soul 
That purifies earth's dusty place 

Where sin stalks beyond control. 

Vice meets sweet virtue on its road 

Stands stock-still and thinks of heaven; 

Longs there to drop its sinful load 
And by you to be forgiven. 

The mem'ry of a woman pure 

Keeps a man in his straight way; 

It plants his foot on ground that's sure, 
Making life a sunlit way. 



47 



NEWMAN NOGGS 
Nicholas Nickleby 

Prosperity has many friends 

Who crowd around our door. 
They swear they'll ever be our friends, 

Then borrow from our store. 

But when adversity comes nigh 

And takes our very all, 
They see us not, they pass us by, 

On us they never call. 

Poor Newman Noggs, where are those friends 
Who pledged you with high glee? 

They've gone the way of all the friends 
Who spy adversity. 



How glad I am that your last days 
Were peaceful, fair and bright. 

The children their dear Newman praise, 
Their constant dear delight. 



CHEERYBLE BROTHERS 

Nicholas Nickleby 

Sweet natures like your own we seldom find 
Unless some trouble has refined the mind. 
For if our life has always fortune's smile 
Other's sorrows we never see the while. 
But if the heart has felt cold sorrow's pain 
We play the man; a broader view we gain. 
When sorrow comes, turn not thy head away 
From Him who sends it, for that sorrow may 
In your dead self a greater self reveal 
And noble tumult make where all was still. 
The mighty war of nineteen-fourteen came 
And England in her heart was not the same; 
Men who e'er before their wealth had stored, 
On wounded souls gave freely of their hoard; 
And Cheerybles sprang up in every town, 
While Selfishness threw off her somber gown; 
And nations thus were changed by sorrow's ways, 
For self had gone, and learned more gen'rous ways. 



49 



TIM LINKINWATER 

Nicholas Nickleby 

Your ledgers are your pride, 
You care for nought beside. 
Here Nicholas could please 
Because he crossed his t's. 
The Cheerybles to you 
Are merchants sound and true. 
Your silver specs, appear 
To shine with wisdom clear. 
Oft from your attic roof 
You ask if one with truth 
A grander view could meet 
Than London at your feet. 
Contentment was your bliss 
Until you met that Miss, 
There by that glowing fire, 
Whose beauty you admire. 
Your hand steals round her waist 
The time you do not waste. 
Your love you there confess, 
Bless her, she answers, "Yes !" 



5^ 



MANTALINI 

Nicholas Nichleby 

Some men will smile while others weep, 
And waste God's time while others toil; 

As long as one "Their Grace" will keep, 
Their clean white hands they will not soil 

These wasters of God's fruitful earth 
Will lean on woman's arm to guide, 

While she, stone-blind to his real worth, 
Will coax and pamper his false pride. 

Such men (not worthy of the name) 
I'd string like crows upon a line, 

For other wastrels in their fame 

To see and know and dread the sign. 



5 1 



CHRISTMAS BOOKS 



/*? 













- 'X- WEED 



SCROOGE 

(A Christmas Carol) 



SCROOGE 



A Christmas Carol 



Cash has a power as strong as any god, 
And, like a slaver, uses oft his rod. 

What once was thrift, too soon a vice can be, 
If gain, alone, should get ascendency. 

Love has no place, while money holds its sway; 

Our eyes are fixed on earth and lose the way 
That leads us to a sweet contented mind; 

So drop the gold, and greater treasure find. 

New Scrooge, I grasp you hand and hold it tight, 
For kindly word and money used aright. 

What matter if a ghost taught you the way, 
The truth, though late, you found on Christmas 
Day. 



55 



MARLEY'S GHOST 



A Christmas Carol 



The ghosts of our departed selves will rise 
And show to us where happiness still lies. 
Not what we have, if power or wealth it be, 
But sweet contented mind and purity. 

We ever strive for what we see before, 
While gems lie at our feet upon life's floor. 
We look far out to what we may attain, 
The phantom-like oasis on the plain. 



We reach our goal, we view the prize we've gained, 
But to our wealth, alas, our soul is chained. 
We know we've lost the peace of our young days, 
When love, not cash, led us through flowery ways. 



BOB CRATCHIT 
A Christmas Carol 

To make the best of life, 

That is the way 
To greet the morning sun 

Of each full day. 

A fixed contented mind 

To seek no more, 
And full enjoyment find 

In our small store. 

And if our wealth be small, 

No good to pout, 
But like our friend, good Bob, 

Just do without. 



57 



TINY TIM 



A Christmas Carol 



It is the smaller things on earth 

That lead us by the hand. 
We know full well their love and worth 

And they, too, understand. 

A child's soft hand has not the strength 

And yet it leads with ease. 
We go its way to any length, 

Our one great thought, to please. 

The children rule our very life 
Where'er our fortunes run. 

All hear Tim's voice above the strife 
"God bless us Everyone." 






TILLY SLOWBOY 



The Cricket on the Hearth 



Your eyes were always opened wide 

In vast astonishment and pride; 

To think that you, a foundling once, 

Should drop in here by some good chance. 

With Dot and John and Baby, too; 
And Baby's head, though very new, 
You'd crack and whack and knock about, 
And scarcely ever hear him shout. 

Your shape was spare and straight and lean, 
The straightest I have ever seen. 
Your clothes on pegs of shoulders caught, 
As if to slip was their one thought. 

The Cricket chirps, the kettle sings — 
Such homely voices, simple things — 
Such homely voices bring to earth 
Much more than all its gold is worth. 



S9 



TROTTY VECK 

The Chimes 

I see you in the cold keen air 

Go trotting by, 
Your cheery face, without a care, 

Like summer sky. 

Contented with your humble lot 

And lowly sphere, 
You care, brave Trotty, not a jot 

For fortune's sneer. 

A lesson to us all you teach, 

To all, to me; 
To take the things within our reach 

And contented be. 



60 



OLIVER TWIST 



OLIVER TWIST 

Oliver Twist 

O, that God's net could gather in 
The wand'ring children of the earth. 

They call the dears, the fruit of sin, 
With only pain to crown their birth. 

"Forgive ! Forgive !" Christ cries, "Forgive. 

He knows 'twas sin; the parents, too. 
O, Christians, here's a chance to give 

The mercy which makes souls anew. 

Come, gather up the helpless lambs 

That wander lost on earth's cold hills. 

The heavy door a world oft slams, 

And with despair the poor heart fills. 

O, take the children, give them rest; 

Forgive the parents who have erred. 
The Magdalene our Master blest; 

The sinner's cry He always heard. 



6', 



NANCY 

Oliver Twist 

The virtue here of being good 

Depends entirely on our food. 
If that be good, from clean hands given, 

It naturally leads the way to heaven. 

But some have food of rotten kind, 

That taints the soul and blights the mind. 

In sin they're trained from very youth, 
With not one chance to know the truth. 

From childhood up, the passing years 
Are filled with only blows and tears. 

Darkness behind, no hope before; 

Mere wrecks of souls upon life's shore. 

Perhaps in heaven, when we get there, 
The bad with good will have a share; 

For God will look beyond a fault 

To see how the poor soul was taught. 



64 



BILL SIKES 



Oliver Twist 



'Tis conscience points and guides the way, 

And stifle it howe'er we may, 

It dogs the steps of every crime, 

It counts not days, it counts not time. 

If 'tis obeyed when crime is thought, 
In birth that crime will come to nought; 
If pushed aside and cast behind 
It rakes and tears a fearful mind. 

'Tis folly thus to think the sun 
Can shine again when crime is done. 
'Tis only Christ can heal the pain 
And give a soul its peace again. 



6< 



FAGIN 

Oliver Twist 

Some men seem void of all that's good, 
Without one thought but sordid gain 

On crime new done, they inly brood, 
On crime to do, on tools to train. 

His Tools the youth of London streets, 
Young flow'rs all blasted by his crime. 

Souls scorched by sin, no one entreats 
A mercy from this king of crime. 

O, that a hangman's rope might reach 
All such as you, who blight the earth; 

Remove the Blossoms from your reach, 
And in pure soil give newer birth. 



66 



QUILP 

Oliver Twist 

Not fit to live 

Not fit to die. 
All you could give 

Was blow for sigh. 
Your darkened soul 

No light could pierce, 
No more control 

Than devil fierce. 
Your twisted shape 

Your twisted mind, 
Suggests the ape 

Or some brute kind. 
All such as ye 

That walk the earth 
Had better be 

Stone dead at birth, 
Unless some plan 

Can send control 
To change the man 

And cleanse his soul. 



67 



BUMBLE 

Oliver Twist 

It seems so queer to me 

That pomposity 
Is always found 
In fools profound. 

It seems so strange to me 

That humility 
Is always found 
With sense profound. 

For Bumble with his lace 
People will give place. 
Sense without pride 
Fs pushed aside. 



68 



THE OLD CURIOSITY SHOP 



LITTLE NELL 

Old Curiosity Shop 

Sleep on, sweet Nell, sleep on. 
Life's but a dream, 
While death's the door 
Through which we pass 
To bliss immortal. 

Sleep on, sweet Nell, sleep on. 

Death's but a sleep 

From which we wake 

To our real life 

In its realms eternal. 



71 



DICK SWIVELLER 



Old Curiosity Shop 



True hearts oft beat beneath the humble breast, 
And faults will hide from others all that's best. 
Until the test doth come, one never knows 
How warm the blood that from a kind heart flows. 



Not ev'ry one that gains earth's wealth and power 
Will reckon such success in life's last hour. 
The kindly word, the silent action done 
Will bring us peace when sands of life have run. 



THE MARCHIONESS 

The Old Curiosity Shop 

How many children here 
Like women grown appear, 
No childish games to cheer, 
Or mother's love. 

Our Little Marchioness 
In cap and tattered dress 
With Sally Brass to press 
And drive you on. 

How well you nursed poor Dick 
When he was lone and sick, 
You proved a little brick 
A right true friend. 

I often think of you 
As married, happy, true; 
You each deserve it, too. 
God bless you both. 



73 



MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT 



MARK TAPLEY 

Martin Chuzzlewit 

No merit in being jolly, Mark, 

When life goes like a song; 
But to smile and jest and laugh aloud 

When all goes wrong. 

It's so easy to be brave and bright 

When all fits in our way, 
But to face the storm and still have faith 

That wins the day. 

So we'll greet our troubles with a smile, 

Grief shall be a folly; 
When all is black as it can be, 

We'll murmur "Jolly!" 



T, 



TOM PINCH AND MARY GRAHAM 

Martin Chuzzelwit 

A sweet child climbs upon my knee, 

'Tis hers, 

Not mine. Such joys were not to be, 

But tears. 

Those tears have long since stayed their course, 

For joy has long since dried their source; 

I have no sorrow or remorse 

For those past days. 

She lives with him she loved so well, 

Why should I grieve? 

She dreamt not how my heart did swell, 

Why should I grieve? 

My love is pure as mountain stream 

As bright and clear as morning's beam, 

To me an angel she doth seem, 

Why should I grieve? 



7* 



RUTH PINCH 



Martin Chuzzlewit 



Fair women place their hand on God's tired world, 
And love and peace and joy is there unfurled. 
It always was, and still is Nature's plan, 
That her pure soul shall quick refine the man. 
And you, dear Ruth, a prize to Westlock brought, 
Your precious heart was all the fond youth sought; 
But with it came your soul, sweet pure thing 
As clear and bright as that fresh fountain spring 
That threw its waters up in sunlight clear 
As you and your fond lover lingered near. 
Your soft heart felt in all its new great love 
That Tom's must lonely be, he could not prove 
Like you his heart — as clean as strong, as tense, 
As yours, dear Ruth, — so sorrow you drove hence 
As only women can when love reveals 
The secret sorrow that another feels. 



79 



PECKSNIFF 



Martin Chuzzlewit 



Hypocrisy if often veiled in pious sighs 

With moral maxims pouring from its mouth, 

And like the pharisee of old, it lifts its eyes 
To thank the Lord it walks the path of truth. 

With lifted, flabby hands it blesses all that's near, 
While stupid phrases fall from its big mouth; 

For its oily slowness and unctuous tone severe 
To simple folks seem wisdom pure and truth. 

But as a thing to loath Charles Dickens drew you 
well, 
For you, and all your tribe, we've learned to 
hate, 
With all your salvey ways your end we can fore- 
tell, 
And with old Pecksniff envy not your fate. 



So 



SARAH GAMP 

Martin Chuzzlewit 

The days have gone when such as you 
Tramped through the world. 
Thank Heav'n for that! 
A kindly act you'd never do, 
With lip scorn-curled 
You nursed the brat. 

No gentle hand upon a brow 
Was laid by you, 

You cross old thing. 
None such as you are with us now, 
But women true 

Who sweetness bring. 

Charles Dickens killed you by his chaff,. 
And women sweet 
Stand in your place; 
Yet still we are "dispoged" to laugh 
When in the street 
We see vour face. 



?! 



MRS. HARRIS 
Martin Chuzzlewit 

I wonder where you live, 

Mrs. Harris ? 
I wonder if you live, 

Mrs. Harris? 

In dreams you're ever floating by, 
I hear poor Sarah's teapot sigh, 
She quotes your words, she pipes her eye, 
Your wisdom no one can deny, 
Mrs. Harris. 

P'raps Sarah's met you now, 

Mrs. Harris. 
I wonder when and how, 

Mrs. Harris? 

If you were ever on this earth, 
You've hid yourself right well since birth, 
But Sarah Gamp she knew your worth, 
Though Betsy Prig denied your birth, 
Mrs. Harris. 



8* 



MONTAGUE TIGG 

Martin Chuzzlewit 

As long as fools of men so ready place 

Their sweat-earned cash with such a blinded trust, 

With unknown rogues who fish with gilded nets 

With artful bait of ten or more per cent., 

So long, O, gorgeous Montague, will you 

And all your rotten tribe go through the world. 

Far easier 'tis to earn than to invest, 

And greed is the sure path of losing all; 

Then men ring hard their hands and say " 'Tis 

Fate" ; 
'Tis not, 'tis greed and hast'ning to be rich. 
An honest man an honest price will pay; 
Men look askance, for Tigg goes marching by 
With showman's rattle of his golden box, 
And men, like foolish children, crowd around 
To take his dividends, till rattle, box 
And all swift disappear, bringing them nought 
But fierce regret and knowledge they've been 

fooled. 



S3 



JONAS CHUZZLEWIT 

Martin Chuzzlewit 



How many parents in this world there are 

Would give their lives if they could but recall 

The careful training that has gone too far 
And like the blight of autumn leaf doth fall. 

They taught the child to save with careful hand 
And count the cost of ev'ry penny spent, 

Till as a vice it held like iron band 

And virtue turned to vice, but practice lent. 

Fond parent with a temp'rance train the child — 
To save too much, to covet soon will lead. 

To covet leads, God knows, to all things wild, 
To theft and worse — all sprung from one bad 
seed. 



^ 



\JLkf<<i<t f <}<.<J>. - ' . 




^ -A - WEfc D- 



URIAH HEEP 
(David Copperfield) 



DOM BEY AND SON 



CAPTAIN CUTTLE 

Dombey Sf Son 

What is it on the windy sea 

That cleans the heart and makes it free? 
What is it in its mighty space 
That kindness in the heart doth place? 

Simplicity of sailor souls 

We know your breezy breath controls; 
Thy salty spray and sunlight clear 
Instils their hearts with godly fear. 

A sailor's but a grown-up child 
On which the rolling years have smiled 
A man we love, a trusty friend, 
Our hand in faith we here extend. 



*s 



TOOTS 

Dombey Sf Son 

Temp'rance in all things, that's the key 
To health, and death to misery. 

How many wise fools in the world there are 
That coax the willing mind to go too far, 
That say of learning one can never fill 
Till broken health and mind must pay the bill. 
How many a young mind has on this rock 
Been shattered for a world to sneer and mock. 
No prison holds the hand that pushed behind 
And wrecked the precious life with its fair mind. 
O, that the world would take such pedagogues 
And on their hide apply a thousand rods. 

Poor Toots, I sigh when your scared face I've seen, 
And think, alas, of all you might have been. 



*9 



CAREER 

Dombey $ Son 

Some men turn round and rend the hand 

That gave them daily food. 
They seem in their ungracious souls 

Devoid of gratitude. 
They eat your food; they drink their fill, 

And ask and cringe for more, 
Then call you fool to be their tool; 

Walk forth and leave you poor. 

False Carkers with their shining teeth, 

Their soft-like, cattish ways, 
Still walk the stones of London streets 

And all the world's byeways. 
Beware ! Beware ! Take not their hand, 

It's soft and hides its claws. 
First know your man, then give your hand ; 

Beware of smiling jaws. 



90 



BLEAK HOUSE 



GRANDFATHER SMALLWEED 

Bleak House 

The only reason we can call you friend, 
(A term one here can scarcely comprehend) 
Is that you show to us, by your mean ways, 
What havoc to a man mere meanness plays. 
For, when we look on such a worm as you 
And think what greed has made you through and 

through — 
That hard unfeeling, sordid, rotten thing, 
Who, to a bag of gold would fiercely cling, 
E'en though that gold would drag your soul to 

hell— 
A lesson to ourselves you ably tell. 



93 



POOR JO 

Bleak House 

How often in some murky place 

We see a child 

With actions mild 
But sorrow stamped on its young face. 

Like little birds lost on the earth, 

Nowhere to fly, 

Nowhere to cry 
And lay their head and know love's worth. 

Dr. Barnado, I to you 

Bow low my head. 

You clearly read 
The lesson that Charles Dickens drew. 



94 



CHADBAND 

Bleak House 

How many men with soft and oily speech 
Unworthy to instruct, aspire to teach, 
With lifted eyes they stand like very saint, 
While all the while the very air they taint. 

With right hand they will bless, with other take 
The very wealth that busy people make; 
Who say to train the soul use well the rod. 
Forgetting all the while a gracious God. 

They bless their meat, then stuff and have their 

'fill, 
While to the poor they say, "It is God's will." 
Their senseless words like oil and butter flow 
Deceiving worthy mortals here below. 

They spoil the work of worthy men and true 
Who in their church must pray and work anew ; 
No nobler men than ministers of grace. 
Of such a Chadband I would clear the place. 



95 



RICHARD CARSTON 
Bleak House 

Perhaps the cruellest thing on earth 

Is law; 
And when we feel at very birth 

Its paw, 
Then life right on to us will be 

A pain 
To look for our right heritage 

In vain. 
The years roll on with patient hope 

Deferred, 
Says Law, because you sit and mope, 

"Absurd ! 
You're better than you used to be." 

But see 
Still broken hearts are made by thee, 

O Chancery ! 

O Chancerv ! 



96 



MR. JARNDYCE 

Bleak House 

False critics, when I hear you sneer 
With that self-important conscious leer, 
That Dickens ne'er in his career 
Did draw a gentleman. 

I feel how ignorant you are 
To downward look to find a star. 
Look up, if you can see so far — 
Here is a gentleman. 

A man of noble mind and soul, 
A man of perfect self-control; 
A man the whole world can extol 
As a true gentleman. 



97 



BAKNABY KUDGE 




BARNABY RUDGE 



Barnaby Rudge 



Poor Barnaby Rudge, 
Earth paid you a grudge, 
To bring you down here 
With laugh and a tear; 
And hardly to know 
Which one to bestow 
On things as they passed, 
All glided so fast. 
With bird on your wrist 
No one could resist 
To pity your plight 
In life's sorry fight; 
Yet laughed at your bird 
Whose wisdom they heard. 
How sad 'tis to know 
That crime will bestow 
On child such a blight, 
For mother's poor sight. 
I feel far out there 
In God's silver air 
Your mother will clasp 
A sane boy at last. 



MRS. RUDGE 



Barnaby Rudge 



Some women seem in misery to live 

Their whole life through. No fault it is of theirs, 

But sin of partner whom cruel fate has giv'n. 

No matter how they strive, a brute called man 

Will drag them down, and keep them suff'ring here. 

No peace of home have they, no tender word, 

No lover-like caress, or soft embrace; 

But words like knives that tear a raking heart, 

And blows that misery can scarcely feel. 

O God, was it intended woman sweet 

Should to such brutes eternally be joined 

When all that should be holy is a blot? 



LORD GEORGE GORDON 

Barnaby Rudge 

The cruellest god that dwells upon this earth 

Is fanaticism. It sees one road 

And one road only, to the far-off goal; 

No hope for any but the way they walk. 

All roads in ev'ry land lead to the sea. 

All souls who live a good and straight clean life, 

Who do to all as they would have them do 

Are on the road to Heav'n. I wonder when 

Fanatics reach the gate in the golden 

Sunset of the Shining West, holding in 

Their hands the instruments of torture that 

They used in love to send a soul in pain 

To Heav'n; if they will cringe when He who ne'er 

Gave pain to any living thing, stands there 

And shows to them His pierced hands, will they 

Expect Him then to say, "Well done thou good 

And faithful servant."? 



103 



A TALE OF TWO CITIES 

OUR MUTUAL FRIEND 

HARD TIMES 

LITTLE DORRIT 

GREAT EXPECTATIONS 

EDWIN DROOD 



SYDNEY CARTON 
A Tale of Two Cities 

Dark clouds are spread above the new-born day, 
The rain falls slanting there across the dale 

The cold wind roars and whistles on its way 
And hope seems dead and darkened is the vale. 

High noon doth pass, but see it's raining still, 
By afternoon the clouds are scatt'ring free; 

The sun breaks through, and golden seems the 
hill, 
And hope again a brighter world doth see. 

At sunset in one bright and glorious haze 

The sun goes down; we all forget the morn, 

The darkness and the rain; this brilliant blaze 
Obliterates the mem'ry of the dawn. 

Thus, noble Carton, seems your short life here, 
You gave your all for love and for a friend; 

Your morn was dark with faults, without life's 
cheer, 
But glorious as a sunset was your end. 



107 



BELLA 
Our Mutual Friend 

Of all the women I adore, 

A woman to the very core; 
With all the faults of human kind. 

With all the twists and gifts of mind. 

No goddess she, no saint above; 

But one to live with and to love. 
A woman true, a living thing, 

A care, a joy, a song to sing, 

A soul of smiles, of laughs of tears, 
A blessing to a man's lone years. 

A woman always, fickle, good; 
Yet one that's oft misunderstood. 

The one I hold to Dickens' fame: 
Sweet Bella Wilfer is her name. 



ic8 



MR. GRADGRIND 



Hard Times 



Facts ! Facts ! 

Come, give us Facts ! 

Still we hear that blatant cry, 

Facts ! Facts ! 

Come, give us Facts ! 

See the Gradgrinds going by. 



Let's take the Gradgrinds 
Of the earth 

And drown them in their Facts. 
Imagination has its worth; 
You'd kill a poet at his birth 
And Pickwick, too, and harmless 
With your Facts ! 
Facts ! Facts ! 



mirth 



109 



LITTLE DORRIT 
Little Dorrit 



Little Dorrit, to us you are as sweet 

A child as Nell. 

There in the murky fog you cross the street 

Like phantom midst the traffic and the mist; 

The thousands notice not, nor you assist; 

O'er London Bridge, and past St. George's church 

You turn, and through the fog looms up a porch, 

The outer gate of your first home we see, 

That tomb of broken hearts — The Marshalsea. 

You teach us that the greatest thing is love, 
And that right well. 

You gave a fortune when you gave your love; 
But Arthur knew the wealth of soul you gave, 
The only wealth that can outlive the grave. 
Lost fortune to you both it mattered nought 
So long as it brought near the love you sought. 
Still through the fog and mist of time I see 
That tomb that is no more — The Marshalsea. 



MISS HAVISHAM 
Great Expectations 

How is it that the whole world strives 

For an ideal to attain. 
They'll pass a blessing in their way 

For a distant one to gain. 
For though their love has turned to dust 

And a broken reed been found, 
They'll clutch the dust and pass a love 

Truer, deeper, more profound. 

When sorrow's hugged from year to year, 

Often pampered, nursed and fed, 
Then virtue of our sorrow's gone, 

When by melancholy led. 
Far braver is the soul that strives, 

To see joy in coming years. 
New love will come at beckoned hand, 

Time and smiles will dry our tears. 



EDWIN DROOD 
Edwin Drood 

There's silence in the heavy air 
And sadness on the breeze, 

A word of dread is whispered there, 
And floats among the trees. 

The sound is Murder! Murder! 

Hark, worse than that we hear, 
Dickens' dead — he's dropped his pen — 

A world mourns at his bier. 



Hands off that pen! 
There let it rest; 

His work unfinished should remain. 
Hands off that pen. 
Young Drood's distress 

A myst'ry is. Let it remain. 



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